The cabin door creaks open as a blonde and a brunette shuffle in, cursing at the never-ending pour of rain that onslaughts the earth and all its inhabitants.
"My god, what is that stench?"
The blonde, Maggie, laughs at her companion's scrunched up face; the sound rings like a bell through the small cabin that creaks under the weight of their weight and the constant rain that has been hitting it for almost eight hours.
"Besides the bear shit? Probably a raccoon or bird. May have gotten stuck in the ventilation."
Both women drop their bags onto the floor, two pieces are red and two pieces are light purple, glad to be out of the wet weather that has left them both drenched. The fabric is splattered with rain drops.
"I'll call my dad and ask him what we can do about it."
The brunette companion quirks an eye brow and looks at her fried. "Exactly how long has it been since your family last used this place?"
Maggie shrugs and shuffles her bags against the back of the couch a few feet from the door before kicking off her boots and disappearing into the small kitchen connected. "It's been a few years. We came the summer before my last year in undergrad. That was, what? Four years ago?"
The rhetoric question is almost answered with a sarcastic comment about how it would have been five years ago if the blonde had not spent her first college semester plastered and in a different guy's dorm room every weekend, but she bites it back down for the sake of her old friend.
"Shit!" The brunette looks up from moving her bags. "Hey, Tuck, is there a bucket in there? We got a leak."
Glancing around as she kicks off her shoes and socks, the dark haired woman finds an empty plastic trash can and decides that it will have to do for now. Tuck picks it up and carries it into the kitchen. Maggie is shuffling through cabinets, looking for anything that could be of use. All she finds are a few dirty dishes, a dead mouse and a swish army knife. She already has about three packed away somewhere so she leaves it there for later.
"Oh thanks, you're a life saver, girl."
Tuck waves off the compliment. Soon, the cabin is filled with the constant plop that the water makes as it lands in the can. Tuck looks around the kitchen before going over to the sink. The nob turns easily, but nothing comes squirting out of the pipes except compressed air.
"Why isn't the water on?"
"Dad may have come fishing a few times since the family vay-kay but he usually stays in the camper since the lake is so far from the cabin. His old bones can't make that walk. I probably have to go under the house to turn the well on. I'll wait until the morning."
Tuck gives the blonde an incredulous look. "Under the cabin?" Maggie nods, coming back up from sticking her head under the sink to check the pipes. "You do understand that this is basically the beginning of every horrible horror movie out there, right?"
Maggie laughs loudly, this one not as bell like as the one before, but still something that sounds like it should come from a fairy.
"Nah, this happens all the time. I'm surprised they haven't sold it off yet, no one uses this place."
Tuck makes a beeline for the fridge and looks inside. She rears back and slams the door.
"Found the source of the smell," she says, her voice nasally from holding her nose against the scent. Maggie makes a face and also looks in the fridge, but she's ready for whatever lays waiting.
"I'm gonna kill him," Maggie grunts out before grabbing the carton of milk from the top shelf. "The only person who is stupid enough to bring milk to a cabin is my brother. That idiot..."
Maggie runs out into the rain, the carton of three year old milk at her side as she goes to dispose of it to decompose naturally. Tuck opens the fridge again, looking for something that was safe to drink and would not give her radioactive super powers.
Three bottles of lime green Pingo Doce soda sit against the back inner wall of the fridge. She grabs two, one for her and one for Maggie when she comes back in from getting rid of the mini science experiment that had been forgotten about. The expiration date says the soda drinks are still good for a few more months. They must have been in the fridge as long as the milk had. Tuck thinks nothing of it, however, when she pops off the cap and takes a long swallow of the drink, downing almost half of it in a few gulps. Her thirst had been making her cranky since half way through their drive.
As Tuck takes in a deep breath, Maggie walks back into the kitchen, soaked to the bone in rain and grumbling under her breath about her brother. The liquid wasn't hot, just a bit cooler than room temperature, but there was something off about the taste.
Tuck begins to cough, dropping the bottle as her body goes into a quick spasm that racks her lungs and diaphram. The glass shatters, covering her feet in translucent green soda and small shards of glass that scuttle across the floorboards like tiny mice.
"Tuck?" Maggie asks, walking over to pat her back.
She can't breathe. She is certain of that so far. She can't breathe and her head hurts something furious. There's a consistant pounding that reminds her of her heartbeat.
"Tuck? Tucker! Damnit, Jennifer, what's wrong?"
"Can't breathe," she gasps out, grabbing at the collar of her shirt and almost rips the fabric in half as she claws to keep it away from her throat. It feels as if it is constricting her. Her body feels as if it is on fire. Her veins sting and her stomach does flip that would make an acrobat sick. She stumbles, stepping on the glass and the cuts soak in the rest of the drink like a sponge. "So. Hot."
Maggie pulls Tuck out of the kitchen and forces her to sit on the couch that their bags are leaned against. The room spins, and she bends over to keep her head behind her knees, but she's scare she'll tilt over so she hugs her thighs to her chest and takes slow deep breathes, but it feels like her head is about to explode and her feet sting from the open cuts.
"I'm going to get a blanket," Maggie says, watching the girl shiver as her body temperature seems to drop, but Tuck doesn't hear her. All she hears is the blood rushing through her ears. It beats like a drum. Her body is hot but her lips turns a cold blue-purple. A steady 150 beats per minute. She counts them out, and it's almost too fast to count them all. The beats speed up the longer Maggie is gone.
Tuck feels a soft blanket laid over her shoulders, but she doesn't trust herself to let go of her legs. She feels as if she's about to explode if she does let go.
"I'm going to head down the road real quick. I think I saw an emergency call box about a half mile away."
Tuck doesn't hear her words, just notices the vibrations in the air. Her ears can't keep up, they're too busy dealing with her heart beat. Maggie disappears out the cabin, running through the rain and to her car. Her tires almost spin out and lose traction in the mud, but she is able to go barreling down the small back road that lead to her family cabin.
In the cabin, it is deathly quiet save for Tuck's straggling breaths and the consistent plop of water hitting the bottom of the bin in the kitchen.
She falls forward, her body weight too much to handle for her weak willed muscles and the coffee table bows in half under her. Realizing that she can breathe just a little better, Tuck opens her eyes and looks around. Everything has a strange tint to it. The white door is a soft green. Her red luggage is brown. She picks herself up slowly, and as she catches a glimpse of her arms and hands, they also have a strange green hue to them instead of her usual tan complexion. She blinks and reflexes her fingers. The door goes back white, but her fingers are still green.
Tuck stumbles to a stand and has to brace herself against the wall as she searches for the bathroom. She nearly rips the shower curtain from the rod when she falls against it. The tears are loud, but they can barely be heard over her heartbeat. Tuck steps to the sink, and she comes face to face with a green-skinned beast that could have rivaled the Hulk in looks.
She gasps.
Her clothing is almost bursting at the seams from the increase in her body's muscle mass. Her shirt clings to the defined contours of her arms and torso, showing off the skin between the hem of it and her jeans. The button on her jeans has popped and slowly the denim is rolling down her hips, revealing more green skin and the lace of the underthings she had picked to wear earlier than morning . She feels the elastic of her bra digging into her skin, but her skin is winning that battle.
A fist goes flying into the mirrored glass. Tuck doesn't remember her mind giving her body the command, but it surprises her more when the skin on her knuckles is unharmed and there's no blood gushing from any wounds.
Maggie comes back in through the front door and notices Tuck not on the couch and the destroyed coffee table. The gentle tinks of mirrored glass hitting tile floor gathers her attention quickly.
"Tuck? Where are you? What happened to the table- oh my god!"
Tuck looks at Maggie's broken reflection, before spinning around to look at her blonde friend.
"What the hell happened to you?" Maggie whispers, but Tuck picks it up as if it were yelled. The blood is no longer rushing through her ears, but her heart beat still feels like a piston pumping against her rib cage. It hurts. Her veins continue to burn and her skin is deathly cold.
She doesn't remember jumping through the window of the bathroom and out into the rain. She doesn't remember the muddy foot prints she leaves behind or the splintered trees she pushes out of her way when they get too thick. She doesn't remember her strangled cries as she trips over the deep roots of oak trees.
She does remember the terrified look on Maggie's face. The horrified wetness that pulled at the corners of her blue eyes and pushed down the sob of fear that pushed against her lungs.
A loud sound pumps through the air, and Tuck ducks under bushel as a helicopter goes flying by, close to the trees. She knows that, more likely than not, it is from the emergency call Maggie had made to the rangers.
What was in that drink?
Small animals scamper by at the sound of the machine, and Tuck only lays underneath the bushel for a few minutes before her body takes off farther into the Oregon woods. The sun goes down far before Tuck finally stops moving. The arms of her shirt are ripped from low branches, and while she is cold it is not from the temperature of the wilderness.
When she wakes up the next morning, her clothes are ripped and stretched in various places, and she can barely keep them on her body long enough to find a road. The early morning sunrise is there, greeting her with the beginnings of a new day. She comes across a small diner, and there are a few crumbled, soaked bills in her pocket.
"You're lucky you're so close to the border and I have to have change," the waitress says, her accent thick as she takes the money Tuck used to pay for the small black coffee.
"What?" Tuck asks, her face scrunched in confusion.
"You're in Canada, sweetie. Did you forget to exchange your bills when you crossed over?"
Tuck tries all she can to hide the look of pure horror on her face.
"Fitz-Simmons, get a sample of this liquid and take back those bottles for testing, also."
"Right away, sir."
The two scientists hurried through the kitchen, carrying their large cases as they murmured terms to each other, taking inventory of the small cabin's kitchen.
"Sir, we did a quick observation of the surrounding woods. It looks like she headed north. There's a distinct path of broken trees, and some foot prints, but most has been washed by the rain. We'll need a bird's-eye view if we hope to locate her."
"Found her."
Coulson looks away from Ward and to their resident computer tactician, smiling as she scrunches her nose for a second before flipping her tablet to show a security footage and the woman they're looking for crossing over the Canada border only six hours ago, along with a few more feeds of her in what is known as Princeton in British Columbia, passing by a few shops in the early hours of this morning.
"She's fast. That's almost 600 miles and she covered it in less than ten hours. May, wheels up in fifteen."
"Yes sir."
Skye follows after Coulson, Ward behind her after informing Fitz and Simmons of their new plans; both finish gathering samples and evidence in the kitchen.
"So we're going to Canada? The country of maple syrup and moose?"
"I like to think of it as the apartment of the little old lady over a meth lab."
Ward snorts out his laughter, but Skye lets out a hearty sound that comes from her belly.
"Good one, A.C.!"
The five quickly board the Bus, located only ten miles away in a large clearing of the Oregon Forest. Melinda May goes through her usual rounds, making sure everyone is back and that all controls are functioning correctly. Skye continues to fiddle with her tablet, but quickly transfer the graphics onto the large hologram table in the main commons of the plane. Coulson watches her work as Ward goes to check on May and then Fitz-Simmons.
"Change of plans," Skye says quickly, expanding one of the windows. It is the inside of a bank, the feed a live play. "She's in Osoyoos now, not Princeton. Looks like she's trying to withdrawal money from her bank funds but they won't let her because she doesn't have any I.D. - whoa!"
The woman they're watching suddenly grows almost two extra feet in height, the muscles on her arms and legs bulging out past her tattered clothing.
"I thought only Bruce Banner could do that?"
Coulson stares as he watches the woman, and even though the feed is in black and white, he can tell that her skin is now a tint of green. She bangs against the thick bullet-proof glass that protects the cowering teller. A security guard fires on her, but the bullets ricochet off her thick skin. The guard goes flying when she throws the back of her hand against his chest. She bursts through the front doors, sending glass out in all directions.
"Keep tracking her! If she as much sneezes, I want to know about it."
Skye nods, grabbing her laptop from one of the couches and begins to type in a series of codes and commands. Instantly, every video camera she can gain access to pops up on the screen, a small box flying across each feed as it recognizes the slightly altered face of the Jennifer Tucker they are tracking. She feels the plane shift in angle, and has to grab onto the holo-table to keep from falling over. The sounds of Fitz and Simmons protesting can be heard loudly over the engines.
Ward comes running up, his feet sliding against the carpet before he uses the chairs and couches to pull himself toward the cockpit. Finally, the plane levels out and picks up speed, but it is almost undetected for other than the slight pressure on passengers' ear inner.
"Sir, Fitz and I need you in the lab immediately," Simmon's soft, yet hurried, voice says over the intercom of the plane, and Coulson goes bolting from the cockpit, followed by a ruffled Ward. The senior agent eyes the graphics Skye has pulled up, along with the frustrated look on her face. More video feeds pop up, but none of them show the person they need.
"Tell me something good," Phil says, feeling old when he has to work for breath. There's the beginnings of a stitch in his side and he tries to hide it from his team, but his face looks worn out and that's enough evidence.
"The same DNA coding that we have on file for Dr. Banner is also showing in the drink on the floor. We've finding the same proteins and enzymes, but we've come up blank on how that is possible. The other two are negative for anything."
"Looks like we're going to have to ask Dr. Banner ourselves."
"Does this mean we get to meet the Avengers?" Skye asks as she comes into the lab, nose still pressed to her tablet. Phil smiles lightly.
"Maybe not all of them, but Banner works with Stark in New York. Barton and Romanoff are always on missions, and Cap is in DC. That is will a mission I cannot take part in, however, so May will lead you in." Phil turns away from Skye and back to his two scientists, "Of course, after we find Ms. Tucker. Do you have an eye on her, Skye?"
"Yep, she just crossed the border again. Caused a bit of a scene too."
Skye expands the feed onto one of the screen nearby, showing the broken concrete wall that supports the state of Washington from British Columbia, Canada. Guards and police from both nations are assessing the scene.
"I've got satellite imaging on her, but she keeps to the trees and it's a little hard to keep up since I have to keep repositioning it. She's fast, Coulson."
"Do you know where she's headed?"
"She's going in the direction of Spokane, but she could end up anywhere."
Coulson nods and turns back to Fitz and Simmons. Everyone is looking at him for the next course of action. With some quick mental math he turns and leaves the lab.
"We'll reach Spokane within the hour. Get ready."
"Coulson!" Skye calls, running up behind him. He stops and turns to look at her. "She's got a home there, law-practice too. I think that's where she's headed."
"I'll let May know."
Tuck groans as she opens her eyes, looking around at her surroundings. She almost doesn't believe that she's in her own home now. But the walls are the usual light tan she remembers, and her bed is just as soft, if not softer.
Was it all a dream?
She slowly sits up, and stares at her body.
It wasn't a dream.
Her skin is back to its tan complexion, but her clothes are barely anything but shreds of what they had been. There's dirt under her nails and her feet are caked in mud. It wasn't a dream.
But what was it?
What was in that drink?
Tuck rests her head in her hands and the stringy, matted pieces of hair falls around to hide her pained expression.
Everything had been fine that Friday morning before the little weekend trip she and Maggie had decided to take. It had been a nice change from the busy work life she held while working in Spokane. Who knew she would have so many divorce cases as the summer was just started.
The sound of crunching glass pulls her from her thoughts. Instantly, Tuck grabs at the baseball bat she keeps beside her bed and jumps into the connected master bath of her little homely house. Floorboards creak, and then there's a sudden flurry of footsteps getting closer and closer to her bedroom.
Who was it? Had they seen her as... that? Were they coming to take her in and experiment on her? She didn't know anything. It was all because of that stupid drink-
"Yah!" she yells as she starts swinging her bat at the two who came into her bedroom. The bat, however was knocked out of her hands and she was sent straight onto her back.
"Ms. Tucker?"
Tuck groans and rolls onto her side, knowing her back was going to be killing her now.
"I'm Agent Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D. This is Agent May. We want to ask you a few questions."
"I don't know anything," she grunts through her teeth and slowly tries to stand. There's a hand held out to help her but she ignores it. "Go away."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Tucker, but I'm afraid it's not that easy, especially with that spectacle you pulled at the border."
"I didn't hurt anyone did I?" she asks, wrapping her arms around her self once back on her feet and at a comfortable distance away from the two agents.
Coulson shakes his head and motions for her to go into the small living area she has in her kitchen. There are four others, two females and two males. "No, Ms. Tucker, no one was harmed."
"Tuck," she says, almost as if second nature. "Please, call me Tuck."
May looks at Coulson, noticing the way Tuck continues to clench her fists, digging her nails into her skin. If May knew anything about Banner, it was that he was triggered by any experiences that he felt threatened in. She kept a close eye on the brunette as she walks behind her. Coulson guides her over to the small kitchen table where Simmons has made a fresh cup of tea for the woman. Tuck smiles thankfully at her when handed it and slowly sips from it, but the woman curls into herself, trying to look smaller.
"Are you harmed at all, Ms. Tucker? Agent Simmons is a medical doctor and can help with any injuries."
Tuck shakes her head, keeping both hands clasped on the mug of tea. Her fingers are gripping it tightly, however.
"No, I'm fine, just very dirty..." she pauses and sighs. "I woke up and thought it was all a dream, but I guess I was wrong."
"Ms. Tucker, if I may," Simmons begins, placing one of the tablets from the Bus down in front of the woman. "You dropped the bottle you had been drinking from, and we believe that the liquid had some form of gamma radiation in it. All we need to do is just take a sample of your blood and-"
"Is that why I... change?"
Simmons pauses, and she quickly deduces a way to answer the question as gently as possible. She nods, clasping her hands in front of her.
Tuck sighs, dropping her tea back onto the table and rubs a hand over her face. The natural oils of her skin feel slippery, and her hair is in chunks that makes her almost beg for a hot shower.
"Can you describe the sensation, Ms. Tucker?" Agents Simmons asks as she begins to set up to withdraw blood from the woman. The alcohol pad is cold and sterile on Tuck's skin, and she feels an unreasonable anger fill her lungs when the younger woman inserts the needle into her skin.
"I can't breathe," she says, and Simmons almost thinks that she's talking about now. "My body gets really hot and my head pounds. I feel really... angry isn't the right word but it's the most simple form of the word. Furious? Enraged? My skin itches and I feel as if I'm a ticking time bomb ready to explode."
"Can you control your actions when you've... changed?"
Tuck opens her eyes and watches as three small vials fill with her blood. It's a dark red, but there's something strange about it...
"Sometimes. Sometimes I know exactly what I'm doing and do it, other times it feels as if my body is on autopilot and I fall back into this almost primal sense of survival."
Simmons unhooks the last vial and break anchors the needle, covering the small pen point spot with a cotton ball before bandaging it down.
"We're going to run a few tests on these. I think Coulson wants to talk to you a bit more."
Tuck nods her head, before resting her chin on her fist, far too tired from the events of the last few days to keep her eyes open.
"Ms. Tucker?"
She opens one eye to look at the young woman standing in front of her.
"Call me Tuck."
Skye smiles and sits across from the older woman. "My name is Skye. I'm the one that found you."
Tuck straightens her back and folds her arms across her chest. Leaning back in her chair, the lawyer stays silent, her hazel eyes flashing a distant green.
"And I've got to say, that was awesome."
Surprised by the comment, Tuck just stares at the woman.
"What?" Tuck stammers, leaning forward.
"I mean, seriously, Tuck. You're basically the girl version of the Hulk! Do you know how awesome that is? Finally some equality in the superhero world. You and Bruce would look so cute together, too. He's all nerdy scientist and then you got this kick ass lawyer thing going on-"
"I'm a divorce lawyer."
"Yeah, well, same thing! You still kick ass in the court. And now you'll be kicking real ass! You should totally start designing a costume and-"
"Skye."
The girl pauses, giving the chance for the woman to speak.
"I'm not a superhero. I'm a divorce lawyer from Spokane, Washington."
"Yeah, but now that you can change-"
"I'm just a lawyer."
Tuck stands up from the table, ending the conversation. But Skye knows that this is far from the end of that conversation.
Finished Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season one and needless to say it was one of the most amazing shows I've ever had the honor to watch. I wanted to write something that hadn't been done yet, but I still wanted to connect it back to something that has been done.
The contaminated bottle – if you go back and watch the Incredible Hulk, in the first ten minutes Bruce is in a factory and cuts himself. While I know, in the movie, the affected person is Stan Lee's cameo, I wanted to use that concept with something else. And thus, comes my version of She-Hulk. Still a lawyer. Still a Jennifer. Different last name and not related to Bruce.
This should be fun.
End Chapter One of "We Know These Roads"